


Idyll

by grim_lupine



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Established Relationship, Holding Hands, M/M, Public Display of Affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-31
Updated: 2011-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:05:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grim_lupine/pseuds/grim_lupine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m taking the day off,” Mark told Eduardo in bed this morning, as soon as he woke up.</p><p>“Is the world ending?” Eduardo asked sleepily, and squirmed, laughing as he got a swift pinch to the side in response.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idyll

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://mark-eduardo.livejournal.com/368440.html?thread=2197304#t2197304) at the [](http://mark-eduardo.livejournal.com/profile)[**mark_eduardo**](http://mark-eduardo.livejournal.com/) prompt fest: _PDA. Any kind of public groping, footsie, hand holding or kissing._

-

\--

“Can I get you anything else?” Janet, their waitress, asks with her pen tapping her notepad, and Eduardo opens his mouth to answer her when he feels something slide up the inside of his leg, and chokes on his words before they come out.

“Some more coffee, thanks,” Mark tells her, eyes fixed on Eduardo the whole time, and Eduardo bites his lip hard when Mark’s foot pushes firmly against his thigh, inching higher; Mark licks syrup off his fork and says, “Everything all right?”

He’s practically radiating smugness. Eduardo would shove his foot away and glare at him for it if it weren’t so damn attractive. Mark knows it, too. Smug Mark hits Eduardo low in the gut and twists him up into something squirming and wanting. Smug Mark means that Eduardo is going to get thoroughly fucked tonight when they get home.

Janet returns with their coffee. Mark stirs creamer into his and does something obscene with his mouth and the spoon.

“ _Mark_ ,” Eduardo hisses.

Mark smirks.

*

“I’m taking the day off,” Mark told Eduardo in bed this morning, as soon as he woke up.

“Is the world ending?” Eduardo asked sleepily, and squirmed, laughing as he got a swift pinch to the side in response.

“Oh never mind then, if you’d rather I didn’t,” Mark had said grumpily; he didn’t mean a word of it and he wasn’t really upset, but Eduardo had played along anyway:

“Nooooo,” he said, drawing the word out and turning so he could throw an arm over Mark’s body and trap him there, “you’re not allowed to take it back. What’s the occasion?”

Mark had shrugged, running his fingers over the back of Eduardo’s arm and staring down instead of looking him in the eyes. “No occasion, I just thought you’d like to go out for the day.”

And his voice was casual, but his shoulders were tensed, and Eduardo had felt a rush of affection at Mark’s very existence; because Mark is unapologetically himself and just shrugs when Eduardo gets exasperated with him when he leaves behind his (nearly-nonexistent) verbal filter and pisses someone off, and he only looks nervous when he’s trying to do something nice for Eduardo.

Eduardo kissed Mark’s neck, said, “You thought right,” and hid a smile when Mark’s shoulders slowly relaxed.

So here they are now, with nothing to do but whatever the hell they please (which includes Mark’s stunt at breakfast and Eduardo getting his revenge shortly after, when they duck into a bookstore, by groping Mark shamelessly in front of the Mystery section).

It’s a lazy kind of day, no pressure or obligations, and Eduardo thinks that it’s the kind of day they might have had if they’d been together at Harvard. Instead of Mark walking everywhere like he always had somewhere better to be, and Eduardo following behind him, and neither one of them really knowing what was going on in the other’s head, they might have just—walked together. Like together is the way they were supposed to be.

Mark’s walking so close to Eduardo that his knuckles periodically brush Eduardo’s leg, and that’s as much of an invitation as Eduardo is likely to get, and more than he needs.

Mark doesn’t look at him when Eduardo grabs his hand, linking their fingers together, but Eduardo can see his eyes crinkle up with his smile, and his hand squeezes a little. Eduardo doesn’t let go.

*

Eduardo gets a cheerful text from Dustin a few hours later: _Enjoy your day of what I’m assuming is marathon sex_.

 _Actually, he’s taking me out for the day_ , Eduardo sends, letting a little smug smile of his own settle on his face.

 _…Wow you do have him whipped_ , he gets back, and letting his smile turn into a smirk, he responds, _Must be all that marathon sex we’re having the rest of the time_ , and shoves his phone into his pocket after that, satisfied.

“Am I not giving Dustin enough work to keep him busy?” Mark asks dryly, and Eduardo grins.

“Give him a break, he’s living vicariously through our sex life,” he says.

Mark puts his hand against the base of Eduardo’s back, firm, like he’s trying to bleed through layers of cloth to reach skin. His thumb dips under the waistband of Eduardo’s jeans, a quick swipe, promising. “Hmmm,” he says.

Eduardo shivers.

*

Mark suggests a movie later, brow slightly furrowed, looking like he’s going through a mental checklist of things you’re supposed to accomplish when you’re taking your boyfriend out for the day. It’s sort of adorable, actually. Eduardo says yes, and can’t keep back a pleased grin at the sight of Mark focusing all his considerable attention on Eduardo.

Mark buys the tickets while Eduardo gets them popcorn and drinks, so he doesn’t see what movie Mark chooses. To be honest, he doesn’t much care; he can see a movie anytime, it’s Mark that really has his attention. Seeing Mark a little out of his depth, trying for Eduardo, slowly looking like he’s realized that he doesn’t need to be switched on all the time to enjoy himself—Eduardo loves it. He wants everything Mark has to give him and more, wants to give everything in return.

When Mark joins Eduardo and they go into the theater, Mark eyes the half-empty room and makes a beeline for the vacant row at the back.

“Maaaark,” Eduardo whispers, grinning a little, stretching out fingers cold with condensation from his drink to stroke over the back of Mark’s neck, “isn’t that where the high school students go to make out during the movie?”

Mark pushes him down onto a seat and takes the one next to him. “I wouldn’t know,” he says wryly. “There weren’t exactly scores of volunteers looking to accompany me to the movie theater when I was in high school.” Then, eyes narrowing and voice going a little sharp, a little intent, he adds, “I bet that was never a problem for you, though. Was it, Wardo?”

Eduardo flushes slightly, mouth quirking, and shrugs helplessly. Guilty as charged.

Mark’s eyes are still narrowed, but he doesn’t look upset, just—challenging. Eduardo’s mouth falls half-open on an inhale when Mark drops a hand deliberately on his knee, fingers stroking upward teasingly. “Do you remember their names?” he asks casually, and at Eduardo’s mute, answering nod, he says implacably, “You won’t by the time we leave.”

Fuck. Eduardo sinks a little in his seat and bites his lip and doesn’t look away from Mark’s face. He knows he’s flushing all the way down to the collar of his shirt by the heat rolling through him, but also by the way Mark’s eyes have gone dark and predatory. Mark’s fingers flex, drag against denim. Eduardo shifts, and simultaneously hopes the movie will be over soon and last forever.

*

Mark keeps his promise.

When they leave, Eduardo’s a little dizzy with arousal, and he’s definitely not thinking of anyone but Mark. He still doesn’t know what movie they watched, only that there were guns and explosions, and then Mark had pulled the zipper of his jeans down a few agonizing millimeters and tucked his finger into the space there, and Eduardo had promptly lost any ability to focus he might have retained.

“I hate you so much,” Eduardo grumbles, shifting and trying to ease the pressure in his jeans.

“No, you don’t,” Mark says, voice low and smug, licking heat down Eduardo’s spine; and Eduardo laughs helplessly, breathlessly, because of _course_ he doesn’t, of course he loves this, of course Mark knows it and knows him and knows what he wants.

“I don’t,” Eduardo agrees, broken open in the sweetest way, showing _everything_ in his voice. Mark stops, swings around and grabs Eduardo’s wrist, goes up on his toes and kisses him right there with a hundred eyes watching. His mouth is wet, sweet, proprietary. Eduardo opens up for him and holds him there, hand cupping the back of his neck, thinks _You are impossible, and I love you_.

Mark breaks away to catch his breath, and he stares at Eduardo with intent eyes, like he’s trying to memorize him. He touches the corner of Eduardo’s mouth with one steady hand, and finally moves out of Eduardo’s space, though only as much as Eduardo will let him.

“Thank you,” Eduardo says, and means: _for giving me today, for trying, for being mine, for wanting me to be only yours, for not letting us die away in our own history, for making us work_ , as well as a thousand other things that are too intrinsic and too immense to put into words.

Mark smiles, dimples popping out and charming Eduardo, like they always do. “Home?” he asks, and Eduardo wants nothing more.

“Home,” Eduardo agrees and takes Mark’s hand, keeps it tucked into his all the way there.

\--

-


End file.
